Stained Might
by Sturm and Drang
Summary: All Might and Stain have a chat.


**So I read MHA and was intrigued by the exact nature of Stain's 'obsession' with All Might and wondered what an encounter between them might be like.**

 **A brief search gave me no fanfics depicting this and I was disappointed and shocked that the fandom had let me down so badly. For shame, other fanfic writers, for shame.**

 **Nonetheless, that means there was nothing else for me to do but put on my big boy writer pants, sit down, and write it myself.**

 **So here you go, the fruits of my Plus Ultra efforts.**

 **Enjoy:**

S&DS&DS&DS&D

It had been a week since my capture... or at least, I was fairly certain this was the case. There were neither clocks, nor windows in my maximum-security cell they had decided to throw me into, so the only thing that I could use to keep track of time was the visits of guards, which all blended together like the buzzing of flies.

No more entertaining was the fact that my wounds were still throbbing—my captors had only given me enough treatment to ensure I would live, but my return to full fighting shape was a long way off… if it was even possible.

I could see the logic in this lackluster medical care, they didn't want me going anywhere before putting me on trial.

I heard the sound of the doors to my cell block opening and rolled my eyes in. No doubt it was high-ranking _so-called_ hero trying to convince me to repent. I closed my eyes; it might be boring in here, but having to look at the condescending pity or disgust on the guard's face was worse than boring—it was annoying.

I listened to the sound of footsteps drawing closer; the tread was heavy, but the person was alone.

Odd.

Still not interesting enough for me to open my eyes. I'd been questioned dozens of times in the last few days, hundreds of barbed little questions that tried to pick apart my beliefs; as though I had some hidden perversion or fetish for doing what I did.

Idiots.

"Well, well, _well!"_ boomed a boisterous baritone. "So you're the Hero Killer I've been hearing so much about lately."

An electric jolt surged through my body at the voice and my eyes snapped open.

"All Might," I breathed.

It was _him_ , standing just beyond the thick glass of my cell; the man who was the absolute pinnacle of what it meant to be a hero.

I swallowed.

The enormous man was smiling, looking for all the world like he was being filmed saving a basket of puppies from a building fire. But, somehow, that pearly grin didn't seem as friendly as it always seemed to be. The American man's face was shaded in the dim lighting of the prison, but I could just barely make something out... a faint pinpoint of electric blue that seemed to blot out everything else.

"Yep, it's me!" The hero laughed, those glowing pupils never leaving mine. "What gave it away? Was it the hair? I bet it was the hair."

I said nothing. I'd always expected to meet this man one day. I had just hoped it wouldn't happen until I'd completed my work in enough cities to truly make a difference. After all, that encounter would likely mark the final day of my work.

One way, or another.

"Oh, the quiet type, hmm?" A single bushy eyebrow inched upwards. "That's alright, young man, I'll start. I suppose you're wondering why I'm taking time out of my honestly jam-packed schedule to chat with a murderer," the jovial tone grew hard as steel on the final word and I nearly flinched, but managed to fight back the urge. I knew what I was; to wallow in shame or regret would be a betrayal of all I had sought to achieve.

"But after all that's been going on, I decided to make an exception and the warden of this prison was kind enough to humor me." The enormous man leaned forward slightly. "You see, there's a lot of buzz going around about you." The smile didn't shrink, but it did grow colder. "I suppose I just wanted to meet the man so eager to kill in my name."

"That's not true!" I snarled, my wounds twinging from the effort and not caring, not in the light of the man who stood before me. I had always known All Might would never approve of my methods, that the hero would have stopped it in an instant if he got the chance—that was the whole point!

"Is that so?" The blond V on his visitor's head bobbed as his head tilted to the side. "As I understand it, you were trying to convince heroes that they should be more like me."

"It was never about you."

"Oh?"

"It was Hero Society. It has grown bloated on its own arrogance: useless heroes, casual villains, people throwing their power around without a care or thought for the people they crush beneath them infest every level of our society, leaving those like you who actually commit themselves to taking it seriously to take responsibility for it. What I did was about trimming away the fat."

"Oh yes. It's society's fault." The man nodded. "Yep. That one's a classic. If I had a nickel for every time some punk has tried that one, I'd have more money than I ever got from the royalties of my fan merchandise." The man pursed his lips. "Of course, that's not a high bar." He admitted. "I donate most of that school systems and such. Why, if I couldn't leap over skyscrapers, I'd have to take public transportation to get around." He shuddered.

"If you choose to dismiss my concerns as an attempt to cover a personal desire to kill people for the thrill of it, I can't stop you." I would not beg to be understood, not even by him. "But it doesn't change the truth of my words." All Might's face sobered, losing that hint of joviality.

"Tell me, m'boy, I heard that you joined U.A. and then dropped out after becoming disgusted with aspects of the curriculum. Some might try to dismiss your villainous behavior as a way to make a name for yourself after you couldn't cut it as a hero. I say your self-taught skills poke quite a hole in that theory." All Might's smile had closed, becoming a mild upturn of the lips. "I just might be willing to believe you didn't kill people just because you wanted to. But killing people to make them change is hardly any better, that's just terrorism. Did you ever think about becoming a hero anyway and leading by example?"

I shook my head slowly. "Leading by example isn't good enough," I said, staring resolutely into the hero's shaded eyes. "If it was, _you_ would have been all the world ever needed." That seemed to set the giant of a man back on his heels and I pressed on.

"You put a righteous fear into the hearts of villains everywhere. Made sure they knew that if they chose to let their vices get the better of them, that if they hurt others out of selfish pursuits, their actions would _not_ go unpunished" The words were pouring out of my throat from that deep pit of frustration that had grown within me since childhood. All the thoughts that had pooled and congealed with me after seeing behind the glittery façade of hero society and seeing the rot underneath.

"You made the common people feel safe to walk the streets, and that was _good_ , but the other so-called _heroes_ ," I spat the word. "They took one look at your efforts and decided that they had an excuse to get lazy. That they didn't need to try hard to protect people because you would pick up the slack. If I became a hero like you, it wouldn't be any different; I would just be one more person putting my life on the line to protect people and that is not good _enough._ "

I wanted to make this man understand, I didn't need his approval, but at the very least I wanted him to understand. I never killed for the pleasure, I wasn't a monster. I did what I had to because nobody would listen to any other method.

Being a hero wasn't about being popular, it wasn't about being an idol. To be a hero, was to be a soldier. To put one's life on the line to defend those who could not defend themselves in the war against injustice.

"I asked myself, what I could do? how could I change the world? And came to my answer. I chose the path of a killer." I murmured, my voice becoming soft as my lungs burned in protest—I wasn't sure, but I thought one of them might be collapsing. "You are correct to call it terrorism. Fear has power. People are cowards. Once they knew you were watching, potential villains wouldn't dare attempt to hurt others for their petty purposes. I intended to do the same, but with the heroes. If they knew someone was watching, those pathetic glory hounds would cower in their homes, leaving only those truly willing to put their life on the line for the sake of others to be heroes." I couldn't help but grin at the thought of it: a dozen heroes like All Might in every city, in every town across the world... it was a beautiful thought.

There would still be villains, of course. Fear only worked if the person was in question was rational, and there would always be more lunatics with powers they shouldn't have. The mere thought of ridding the world of them completely was ridiculous. But in the world I would have created, there would _always_ be someone present and capable of pushing them back.

All Might was silent, it seemed to see the larger-than-life man so still, it was a bit like seeing a mountain standing upside-down on its point.

"Well?" I asked.

"I wonder if Nana ever looked at me and felt like this, back when I first hit my stride?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing. Just an idle thought." The muscle-bound man shook his head. "So, you saw a broken world and wanted to do what it took to fix it? Just like I did?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm," I could practically see the wheels in the man's head turning as he thought and as I watched, I began to notice something strange. He looked… exhausted, for lack of a better word. His back was a straight as ever, a solid core of power and confidence, but around the edges… he seemed to droop, his hair did not stand so straight, there was a hint of tremor in his arms. It was… unnerving. I did not like to think that this man might falter in any way. He had to be strong, he had to win. That's what made him All Might.

"Y'know, m'boy," he said at last. "I've found that the cliché is quite true—nothing in life is perfect."

I rolled my eyes. This was a line I'd heard before: oh, nothing's perfect. But we're doing the best we can so we might as well accept it.

I _refused_ to accept it.

"What about you?" I shot back.

"Oh dear. Is that what you think?" The booming voice had gone soft, the electric blue had vanished from those eyes…somehow, their absence did not make the cell any warmer. "Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill the villains I fight?"

Very easy indeed.

"You've killed before, multiple times," I said.

"Ah, so you do know about that." He shrugged, "well It's hardly a secret, but for some reason nobody ever seems to talk about it. Maybe they think it would be rude." He paused, then shrugged. "Or social media, I suppose. I'm pretty darn popular there. People get upset when they see me badmouthed." He shrugged. "Honestly, I can't say I've deserve it. I've tread on a lot of people. I _had_ to, in order to stop crime to the degree I did. Whether they attacked others out of greed or an anger born of desperation, I had to take them all down, regardless of the fact that some of them deserved better. Laws can only work if they do not discriminate and I never wanted to take on the role of judge and jury." He sighed. "But sometimes I had to take on the role of executioner."

"They made their choices." I scoffed. "If they aren't willing to take responsibility for their actions, then they shouldn't have acted in the first place. Besides, you always give villains a chance to surrender."

"I don't, actually." The man corrected mildly.

…What?

"Oh, People think I do, but it's not true. I've met villains of every kind: big, small, sane, crazy; everything from serial killers to purse snatchers, I've met 'em all. I give most of them the chance to give up, the insane ones, the angry ones, the powerful ones, the desperate ones who just want a chance. But then there are the... other ones. The ones that I _know_ won't stop. It's something about their eyes, they get all glazed over with the madness of conviction." He paused for a long moment. "Your eyes look like that."

Now I winced. But I didn't let it keep me from meeting the man's gaze. I wondered just how many villains those tiny blue pinpricks served as the last thing they ever saw?

"So do yours." I answered.

"…Ouch." He sighed. "Well, you got me there. I really do wish you had just been one of the crazy ones." He shook his head. "It would have been so much easier. I suppose that means there isn't much left to be said." The hero turned to leave, paused. "Oh wait, I almost forgot." He turned back. "At the very least, I suppose I owe you my thanks for protecting my young protégé."

I stared. What did he…

"Green hair." The man supplied. "Cries a lot, probably punched you in the face at least once. You stabbed a Nomou that was abducting him."

Recognition dawned. I remembered the child, throwing himself between that arrogant young hero and myself, heedless of the thought that I might kill him as readily as I would have killed his friend. "Your… protégé?"

"Yep. He's one of my students." The tips of the V bobbed as the man nodded. There was another pause and he added: "That was my answer, by the way."

"What?"

"To what I did when I realized I was no longer enough to right the wrongs in the world. I decided to pass on the mantle. But not just to young Midoriya, of course. But to all his classmates as well." He spread his hands, his grin returning. "I have inspired people, but as you said: that's not enough. So I am going to personally oversee that the new generation of heroes are ready to stand watch over this world when the time comes for me to walk away from the fight."

He stared into my eyes, his gaze weighing down upon me in a way I could not describe. "You could have done the same, you know." he said quietly. "With your skills, you could have been an amazing hero. But your _resolve_ …" he sighed, his smile slipping away again. "That's what would have inspired many to strive for your ideals."

I said nothing, a strange feeling in my gut. What _could_ I say?

"Truth is," the hero continued. "It already has. You've become a martyr, a rallying call to people everywhere to act, to lash out at hero society. All of it in your name."

My nostrils flared, the feeling in my gut curdling into disgust. My actions had been mine and mine alone. I had never had any desire for followers.

"Yep, that's what happens." All Might nodded, his face sympathetic. "If you light a fire and walk away, you lose all control of what gets burned. The flames you've ignited are now burning beyond your control and now the rest of us have to run around on damage control."

I closed my eyes, not willing to waste the energy it would take to call the man a liar. I knew how people were, had studied exactly that topic extensively before I came to the decision to kill. Ideas could spread faster than wildfire and were even more difficult to stamp out. It was no surprise that people got the whole point wrong, it's what people had always done.

How many people throughout history had been put to death in the name of a religion which had the commandment: 'Thou shalt not kill'?

If what All Might said was true, then there would be nothing anyone could do to stop it. Even If the heroes were willing to let me speak out and tell these rampaging idiots to stop, they wouldn't. People would claim I'd been coerced to do it and ignore it, or call me a sell-out, or some other nonsense. They would misinterpret my ideas, twisting them to justify their actions, and make themselves the heroes.

But I _was_ a villain. I _choose_ be one to get the job done.

This was exactly why I'd never left any calling cards or messages about my ideals at my killings. I hadn't wanted to start a cult. I had wanted to leave a message: Being a hero is dangerous, if you aren't willing to put your life on the line to protect others, don't bother.

I cursed under my breath, fury and helplessness rising within me in equal measure.

All Might cleared his throat, making me look up. "I'm not going to judge you, Stain the Hero-Killer," he said. "I did not tell you this to hurt you. But killing someone is an action that cannot be taken back. The consequences are something we should all live with and I thought it just that you know what those consequences were."

I closed my eyes, my head bowed. "I understand."

"…Good." I heard the heavy tread of the man's footsteps carrying him away. My eyes snapped open as a thought occurred.

"Wait!" I called. The man stopped and his head half-turned back to me.

"This," I licked my lips, staring at that impossibly broad back. "This protégé of yours. These students…" All Might said nothing, waiting for me to finish. "Are they going to be great?"

There was a pause, and then the cell block seemed to brighten as the hero's grin returned to full force. "Just you wait!" he laughed. "They're going to make me look like the opening act."

And then he left, the door sliding shut behind him, leaving me alone.

My thoughts were scrambled, derailed by what had just happened, by regret, surprise, and disappointment—In myself, in the world, in what could have been, but wasn't.

I closed my eyes and wondered if I could have made a better choice.

S&DS&DS&DS&D

 **Can any of you tell that I found Stain** _ **really**_ **interesting? The more I thought about it, the more intriguing he got. I think it's that he's such a perfect anti-hero to All Might. He tried to do pretty much exactly what All Might did. It's a little like the difference between Batman and the Punisher, but not quite. I'm having trouble putting my finger on it exactly.**

 **But another thing I find so cool about Stain is that this fascination over his ideals is exactly what he inspired in all those characters in the manga to run amok. The fact that I, in the real world, find it so interesting myself reinforces how well written Stain was.**

 **I just thought he was cool. I don't know if he's every going to appear again in any real capacity. Not sure if he should or not. He** _ **is**_ **a murderer, after all. Whether he continues his crusade against hero society or tries to make amends, I have doubts about how realistically he could ever do that. He can't take back what he's done or stop others from acting on it. That's why the ending of this oneshot ended on such a hopeless note for him.**

 **Well… I hope anyone who read this enjoyed it.**


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